The Strain: Another Season - Episode Four - Gets Rough
by Rosie Brook-Meade
Summary: In 1944, after an evening spent in the arms of an old flame, Eichhorst returns to camp. Lost, conflicted – drunk, he seeks out A230385. Back in the present, he makes some new friends. Team Setrakian deal with their own crisis and the tablets continue their story.
1. Chapter 1

The Strain: Another Season  
Episode 4

 **Author's note: I have noticed that there was one American reader who repeatedly hit this chapter throughout September and October this year. (Either that or there were many Americans who all found this tucked-away fic interesting and not even in my wildest fantasies can I believe that is the case!) I have also noticed a recent spike in traffic in Gets Rough on AO3 and have posted a similar note over there, although on that site I can't tell the nationality of the reader or which chapter has been hit.**

 **You (and we can both be confident that I am addressing only one person) have not favourited, followed or reviewed this story and that's fine. To be honest, I'm delighted you found it (it was posted more than two years ago) and read it so often. But I must admit, I'm fascinated as to what in particular appeals to you.**

 **If you wish (and the last thing I want to do is scare you off), you could post a guest review and I would delete it before it appeared publicly on the website. I have enabled review moderation so it would be as easy as the click of a button. Then it would be like a private message (PM) except that you wouldn't need to create an account or sign in or compromise your anonymity in any way.**

 **There must be something about this section that you prefer to all my other posts and it just might be that I need only one person's encouragement to write more of it.**

 **But only if you want to…**

 **Otherwise have a happy new year and thanks for reading.**

* * *

 **Update 27 Jan 18: If you (my cherished American frequent flyer) have just moved north of the border then ignore this addition. If not, then there is a new Canadian reader, albeit not such a regular visitor as my American friend was in the autumn. If the latter is the case, you are most welcome to this hard-to-find fic in an obscure fandom and the same offer as described above for total anonymity applies to your feedback if you wish it.**

 **(Also the same thanks and the same wish for a happy 2018!)  
:)**

* * *

Gets Rough  
Chapter One

* * *

Poland 1944

The car drops Standartenführer Eichhorst off at the camp gate and turns around. The guards salute him through. He nods at them and walks a little unsteadily towards a wooden building – the only one still lit at this hour. Despite the clear night and the snowy ground, he doesn't bother to fasten the jacket that Maria undid. More mortars fall nearby and his officers shout orders at underlings but Eichhorst doesn't deviate from his path. He takes a swig of the bottle of brandy Dreverhaven brought him and totters into the workshop.

The prisoner rattles something but he's hard at work tracing the pattern onto the final panel by the time Eichhorst fumbles open the lock and swings the gates open. Sweating slightly despite the chill, he collapses onto a stool, raises his bottle dramatically and tells the boy, 'You must pick up the pace, A230385.'

* * *

West Berlin 1989  
Dr David Kaplan's University Office

Professor Abraham Setrakian is teaching two new students. The girl sits close to him, following every word with rapt attention but the young man is doodling on a photograph of a good-looking man in SS uniform. Corey Henke is giving Dr Werner Dreverhaven's image a Hitler moustache and acne.

'Oh my God, Professor!' exclaims Sandra, horrified. 'What did you think when he undid his flies?'

Corey rolls his eyes and pulls a second picture of an older man towards his desecratory pen.

'Exactly what you're imagining, quite probably, my dear,' says the Professor. 'But he only relieved himself in my _pissoir_.'

'Oh, thank God!' she says, her hand pressed to her throat in relief.

'Then he asked me if I thought the Third Reich would last...'

'As if you were a friend?' interrupts Sandra, incredulously.

Setrakian nods. 'And when I said no, he proceeded to orate zealously on behalf of Hitler and another entity who he said would deliver everything Hitler promised and more,' continued the Professor.

'Who do you think that might be?' asks Corey, his interest rekindled.

Setrakian pauses. 'You aren't yet ready for a new introduction,' he says.

'Oh right,' says Corey, bored again. 'Another vampire I take it. Come on, Sandra, it's late. We'd better head back to the hotel.'

'But he's so fascinating,' she protests.

'I could listen to you for hours, Professor,' she tells Setrakian.

'We'll start again in the morning,' he says. 'Perhaps tomorrow, Mynheer Henke won't tire so easily.'

Corey scowls and Sandra smirks. 'Will you tell us about the other "entity" then?' she asks.

'Maybe,' twinkles Setrakian. 'Remember, keep each other close.'

* * *

Poland 1944

'If that God you believe in really existed, what d'you suppose he would think of you?' rasps Eichhorst in Abraham's ear. Once again, he's far too close and the young man grinds his teeth. He wipes the moisture and brandy fumes away with a grimace but not until the Nazi is safely out of the building.

Eichhorst staggers outside, growling with frustration and barks at a passing lieutenant. He meanders off down the main thoroughfare and a shadow peels away from the workshop wall to follow him.

'If you're quick enough, you might grab my pistol!' mimics Dreverhaven sarcastically. 'Don't you wanna try?' he laughs.

Eichhorst has halted at the first syllable and now sighs wearily, 'Go home, Werner.'

'Puh-lease! What kind of seduction is that?' he drawls.

'Didn't you have someone or something to defile back at the Von Croÿs'?' says Eichhorst.

'Well, I did,' says Dreverhaven. 'But it turns out they weren't as broad-minded as their sister.'

Something pointed in the doctor's tone makes Eichhorst cock his head and turn slowly towards him - every movement suddenly steady and deliberate. 'Their sister?'

'Mmm. Yes,' says Dreverhaven overly nonchalant. 'Clara and Victoria were going to…'

'The Von Croÿ twins?'

Dreverhaven grins proudly.

'You've had Eva? My daughter? _You?_ _YOU!_ ' seethes Eichhorst, practically foaming at the mouth. Dreverhaven's smile vanishes as he realises that he's pushed his friend too far.

Whatever fragile barriers were holding Eichhorst's rage in check now rupture spectacularly and he lays into the doctor with appalling ferocity.

He gathers a crowd but no one intervenes. Either they daren't challenge their commanding officer or each of them has experienced Dreverhaven's cruelty at some point.

Some time later, Eichhorst drags the doctor's groaning carcass to the gates and tells the open-mouthed guards, 'He's been discharged. Dishonourably. Tell him when he comes round.' He turns away then, as if remembering adds, 'And he's never to show his face here again.'

Then he bellows, 'HAUPTMANN!' at the camp in general. A tattooed bruiser doubles his way to Eichhorst and rips a terrified salute.

'We will clear Herr Doktor's laboratory at first light,' says Eichhorst.

He clutches his head, and then quietly says in a calm, reasonable voice. 'Now, please. Stop shouting.'


	2. Chapter 2

The Strain: Another Season  
Episode 4

 **Author's note: I know Sandra's annoying. I created her and even I don't like her much. She'll really piss you off this chapter in new and irritating ways. I didn't intend her to be so unlikeable, honestly. I find it heartbreaking that I can't write an engaging character. Just grit your teeth and know that she's there to do a job (well, probably two jobs) and when she's done it (or them), she's outta there.**

 **I haven't described Dr Dreverhaven's human experiments or their aftermath in any detail. I did some research on Nazi experimentation and even I felt sickened. And, as I'm sure you can appreciate, as a vet I've seen some grim stuff in my time.**

 **I am so over that bastard.**

Gets Rough  
Chapter Two

West Berlin 1989  
Dr David Kaplan's University Office

The two youngsters slope in, yawning, to find Setrakian already at a table by the window, poring over his illustrated vampire book. He's having trouble with his glasses, as if he can't focus very well. He takes them off and smiles at the arrivals.

'Sorry, Professor,' says Corey, dealing his four Nazi photographs onto the desk. 'We weren't sure what "first thing in the morning" actually meant.'

Sandra fishes a notebook out of her rucksack and sits down. 'So I said you'd probably not want us to leave the hotel before dawn,' she explains. 'Cos you were so determined I shouldn't be alone at night here,' she adds. 'Why though?' she asks with a puzzled frown. 'Do you think there's a vampire here in Berlin? One of these guys?' She points at Corey's pictures.

'Yes,' says Setrakian. 'I believe he…' He points to Eichhorst's photo. '…is here. I don't think he will look like the drawing in my book though. He will be wearing a suit and tie and he will have a normal-looking human face and hair. The wonders of modern make-up and prosthetics possibly – or the work of a mad surgeon. I don't know.'

'What about the doctor?' asks Corey.

'You don't need to worry about him,' says Setrakian simply. 'He is no longer a threat.'

They both look at Setrakian.

'What do you mean "No longer a threat"?' says Corey. 'Is he dead?'

'Not exactly,' says Setrakian. 'But he is…neutralised. I saw to it myself. If Eichhorst has company in town it is probably his Master.'

Setrakian now opens the volume to a drawing of a naked Ancient – elongated middle fingers and extended pointed pinnae being the main differences.

'He looks like Mr Spock,' says Corey.

'Yeah,' says Sandra. 'Crossed with Brother Lee Love. Look at those ridiculous hands.'

She looks up as Setrakian regards her uncomprehendingly.

'Oh yeah, I remember,' says Corey. 'The Ken-ny Everett Television Show,' he sings the theme tune. 'We got the BBC in the Netherlands. Bart would always be able to twiddle something and find it.'

Sandra and Corey dance around doing the Brother Lee Love hands, both singing, 'Brother Lee, Brother Lee, Brother Lee Love.'

'My favourites were Gizzard Puke and Sid Snot,' says Corey.

'Mine was always Cupid Stunt,' says Sandra.

Setrakian now looks like the new intern at a lunatic asylum.

Sandra continues, 'I can do the leg thing but I need a false beard.'

Corey does the voice and hands. 'And then all my clothes fall off…'

There is much flirting, poking and giggling between the two kids until…

Setrakian smiling indulgently says, 'Ah there's nothing quite like young love is there?' Then his smile fades in an instant as he turns back to the book. '…for getting you both killed!' he finishes sternly.

They stop mid-tickle and with Sandra poised halfway through 'But it's all done in the best possible taste.'

'Sorry!' they chorus, still giggling.

'You would not find him so amusing if he were sucking out your last drop of blood,' snarls Setrakian. 'Or turning your soul mate into an abomination like him leaving you to slay her with as much love and compassion as you can safely muster before you are yourself turned. He is the very essence of evil – not even Dreverhaven himself, in his most depraved moments, comes close.'

Sandra is once again genuinely ashamed of her flippancy. 'We're really sorry,' she says. 'It was just the hands…'

Setrakian is slightly soothed. 'I know it is hard to contemplate death and destruction when you are still so young and carefree,' he sighs. 'You think you have decades and decades of life and love before you both. And I hope that is the case. But you MUST pay attention to all I tell you to stand the best chance of that.'

* * *

Fet's Place, Red Hook, Brooklyn

'NORA! EPH!' yells Fet, holding Setrakian like a baby. 'It's the old man. I think he's…' he chokes.

Nora immediately runs back to them but Eph hesitates, looking at Zack. Neeva says, 'Come on,' quietly and beckons Zack to her. He slips his father's grip and goes to her and the Luss children.

Back in the shop area, Nora sweeps a metal table clear of rat traps and Fet gently sets Setrakian's lifeless body down on it.

'Take off your sweater,' Nora tells Fet. He gives her a look. 'You take yours off,' he says, affronted.

'It's for a pillow,' she says impatiently. 'Yours is bigger.'

She checks Setrakian's pulse and breathing while Fet strips and tenderly cushions the old man's head.

'He's alive,' she says, relieved. 'Loosen his clothes,' she orders Fet.

Fet is giddy with relief and grins, 'Him too? Is no one safe from you?'

Nora giggles at that and rummages in Setrakian's pockets for a nitroglycerine tablet.

Eph arrives and raises his eyebrows at Fet before he notices the prostrate Setrakian. 'Oh my God!' he exclaims. 'What happened?'

'He opened up the mail drop and collapsed,' says Fet, loosening Setrakian's tie. 'I thought he was gone.'

The patient's eyes flicker open on the bizarre tableau of a topless Fet removing his shoes while Nora's delicate hands explore his trouser pockets. 'Got them,' she says triumphantly, pulling out a pill pot and fumbling it open with shaking fingers.

'Oh no,' says Setrakian, struggling into a seated position. 'Did I faint in front of someone this time.'

All three turn to look at him.

'Yeah, you did,' says Fet crossly. 'You gave us all a scare.'

'What do you mean "this time"?' frowns Nora.

'I'm not as young as I used to be,' says Setrakian, laying it on thick. 'Sometimes, if I get a shock…' He stops, remembering what the trigger for his episode was. 'Where is the catalogue?' he says.

Fet locates it halfway under a poison cabinet. 'There you go, pops.'

Setrakian finds the _Occido Lumen's_ entry and shows it to them. 'I thought this artefact was destroyed,' he says. 'Or that it had never existed beyond my wishful credulity.'

'It's just an auction listing,' Nora points out. 'The item itself might still be fantasy.'

'It sounds like an Eldritch Palmer – conceived trap, if you ask me,' says Eph.

'I don't believe that,' says Setrakian. 'At any rate, I have to see for myself.'

Fet is studying the entry. 'What is an Okeydokey Lumen anyway?'

'The _Occido Lumen_ is a book. About _strigoi._ I believe it will contain certain valuable information concerning the Ancients - of which the Master is but one - and how to kill them. This…' says Setrakian, his eyes gleaming, '…This is the key to victory. This is IT. We need this book.'

'25-40 million?' says Fet noticing the estimated price. 'That's roubles right?'

'Dollars,' says Setrakian redundantly.

'Well, we'll just have a whip-round then shall we,' says Eph sarcastically. He pretends to call his son. 'Zack! Go and get your piggy bank.'

'That's Stoneheart money,' says Nora.

'Palmer must not get it,' says Setrakian, adamant. 'He would give it to Eichhorst and thence it would come to the Master. _We_ must possess this book. It will tell us how to end the Master. It is the ultimate weapon of mass _strigoi_ destruction.'

'Woah, woah, woah!' says Fet. 'Back up there a minute. The Ancients "of which the Master is but one"? There are more of these things? Like him?'

'He is one of seven Ancients…' explains Setrakian.

' _Seven_!' exclaims Nora, shocked.

'They are not all as rapacious as he. There are three here in America and three somewhere on the Eurasian continent. While still _strigoi_ and therefore inherently evil, the other six have lived in balance with humans for millennia – killing their prey once drained in order to prevent the creation of more of their kind. The Master has been repressing his native lust for pain and destruction for centuries too – as desirous of secrecy as the others. But now, all of a sudden, he has travelled here from Europe and is spawning thousands, eventually millions of his demonic offspring. That is no coincidence and neither is the reappearance of this ancient tome,' he points at the catalogue.

'How did he get here?' asks Fet. 'If they can't cross moving water.'

'They can with human help,' says Setrakian.

'Like an invitation?' says Nora.

Setrakian nods. 'He came here in an ornate earth-filled coffin on Regis Flight 753,' Setrakian tells Fet.

Eph and Nora look away, ashamed.

'Jim said it had all been planned,' says Nora.

'Eldritch Palmer did the inviting,' scowls Eph.

'How'd he get from JFK to Tribeca?' asks Fet.

'Jim was coerced into allowing a van carrying the coffin out of the airport,' says Nora.

'Coerced by Eldritch Palmer,' adds Eph.

'Yeah, I guessed that part,' says Fet. 'Dutch said he boasted to her about achieving immortality.'

'That explains a lot,' says Eph.

Setrakian draws their attention back to the _Lumen_. 'I will go to the auction house tomorrow morning in order to verify this item's authenticity.'

'I'll come with you,' says Fet.

'Me too,' says Nora. 'Eph, you should stay here with Zack and the others.'

He nods, distracted.

* * *

Poland 1944

Eichhorst leads a squad of guards into Dr Dreverhaven's medical clinic. Dr Maurer and his assistants immediately stand to attention and salute.

'Ready for inspection, Herr Standartenführer,' announces Maurer. 'But we are not operating yet as Dr Dreverhaven is not here.'

Eichhorst looks at him coldly.

The squad clear everyone from the clinic - sick and injured guards and medical personnel alike - and move through the empty surgical suite into the laboratory.

Cages full of prisoners line the walls. They have horrific injuries. Many are identical twin children, some are Roma, most are Jewish and one is a man with dwarfism. He is blond and calls for help in German. A guard strikes him with a baton and shouts him into submission. Eichhorst ignores this and says calmly, 'Euthanase them.'

He retreats to the operating theatre while this is done and studies the dimensions. Then he examines the fixtures and fittings, pushing and pulling the instrument cabinets and opening all the built-in cupboards. The theatre is clean and organised - presumably because the doctors also treat Germans.

Eichhorst next turns his attention to the floor. There's a circular drain in the centre and a couple of manhole covers. He inspects the anaesthesia induction and patient preparation area in the same detail and moves to the surgeons' scrub-up section and then the recovery room.

He returns to the theatre and sighs. He is joined by half the squad because the rest are still noisily throwing up after witnessing Dreverhaven's handiwork. He paces to and fro and one of the manhole covers yields to his weight. He makes another pass, testing it and then orders a guard to lever it with a crowbar. Steps lead down into darkness. He selects the men with the strongest stomachs and descends.

What he sees down there brings him to a frozen halt. The guards do their utmost not to run into his back.

'Oh, Werner,' he whispers, horrified. 'What have you done?'

* * *

 **Author's note: On a much lighter note - younger readers and those not from these shores may wish to explore YouTube to discover the puerile joys of the late Kenny Everett. I was very young when I first saw his television show (too young, probably) and when I checked my facts and dates, I'd forgotten all about General Cheeseburger, Captain Kremen and that handyman guy (forgotten his name already)…Reg Prescott, that's it. If you do check them out, you'll think I'm an idiot. And you may well be right.**


	3. Chapter 3

The Strain: Another Season  
Episode 4

 **Warning: Scenes of torture (human on vampire only at this stage).**

Gets Rough  
Chapter Three

* * *

Poland 1944

'Oh, Werner,' whispers Eichhorst, horrified. 'What have you done?'

A prisoner-turned-vampire is shackled tight to the wall via a cast iron collar with a kind of gag attachment to neutralise the threat of the stinger.

A second vampire is bound and naked on an operating table. He is also collared and appears to have been dragged onto the table by a horribly familiar chain-and-winch device. His stinger is extended onto a second table behind him and it has been dissected and pinned open, revealing two separate channels leading from the fangs. This subject has also been cut open from chin to pubis.

'What you have permitted him to do, Herr Eichhorst,' says the intact _strigoi_ , using the Master's voice. 'While you looked the other way…'

Eichhorst stares back at the glowing eyes, utterly horror-struck. 'No!' he croaks.

'I've found a dark heart within him – darker than yours,' says the Master. 'And an enquiring mind. I allowed, even encouraged, its exercise.'

A movement catches Eichhorst's eye and he turns to watch, grey-faced, as the spatchcocked vampire twitches and looks at him.

'Now you must destroy my children,' says the Master speaking through the tortured vamp. 'And all those who've seen them.'

Eichhorst looks back at the guards. They remain stony faced and steady apart from one who is trying not to retch.

' Yes,' says the Master. 'They heard that - but not this. They follow you loyally, unflinchingly. They trust you. I am impressed. I have a use for that kind of charisma.'

Eichhorst swallows.

'There are others that you want,' continues the Master. 'You may turn the girls. And the woman.'

The Master's voice has returned to the intact vampire now. 'Do you love them?' it asks. 'The mother and the daughter?'

'I don't know,' says Eichhorst.

'You will find out,' gurgles the monster. 'And the boy. He will finish carving my bed tomorrow morning. He is curious. He watches me at night. Perhaps…' The vampire shrugs, loose-jointed. 'The next few days will tell you if he will join us. The answer is in his hands.'

* * *

Outside City Hall, Manhattan, Present Day

Manhattan is much more peaceful and civilised than the outer boroughs – almost normal. There is a strong police presence, in uniforms and marked patrol cars and always in pairs. It is still dark but the increased foot traffic indicates that dawn is approaching and city workers are trying to get an early start.

Eichhorst is waiting for Palmer outside on the street. He watches idly as people scurry by in groups but when a suited young man strides past on his own, Eichhorst pushes away from the wall he's lounging against and follows.

He doesn't get very far before he hears a girlish scream and feels a restraining hand on his arm.

Two young women are smiling at him and one is actually squealing with delight.

'You're him, aren't you?' she says, breathless with excitement. 'You're the Well Dressed Man from the TV.'

The other removes her hand, oblivious to Eichhorst's pointed stare, and produces a mobile from her coat pocket. 'Hi there,' she says. 'I'm Maisie. She's Anna. Can we get a selfie? We're your biggest fans.'

And, before he can refuse (or maybe consent), the girls are either side of him and the phone flashes.

'One more,' says the photographer, while the squealer launches herself upwards to land a smacker on Eichhorst's cheek. He jerks away from her but she just remarks, 'Ooh! You're really hot, y'know that. Hope you aren't catching this plague-thing.' And they bustle away, tittering over the snaps, past a white-haired man getting out of a shiny black car.

Eldritch Palmer's smirk survives Eichhorst's snapped, 'You're late.'

'No,' he corrects, chuckling. 'Thanks to the Master, I'm not. I'm alive and kicking.' He breezes past Eichhorst, singing the Spiderman song quietly. It could be he's substituted "Well-Dressed Man" for "Spiderman" in the lyrics.

Then he stops and turns, saying, 'You've got a little…' he touches his own cheek with a finger, '…lipstick. Right here,' he chortles.

As the disgusted Eichhorst dabs at his face, careful not to remove his foundation, Palmer comments, 'ffinch-Myles' broadcasts have had quite an effect on your profile, haven't they? Have you managed to meet with him?'

'No,' says Eichhorst tightly. 'I tried to get into FinchCorp headquarters but his security was distressingly well-informed.'

'Silver?' says Palmer.

'And UV.'

Eichhorst stops and fixes his companion with a stare. 'He _must_ attend your birthday function. I insist upon it.'

Palmer shrugs. 'Short of dragging him there myself, I don't see how I can accommodate you,' says Palmer. 'Now, shall we attend to our business?'

* * *

The Narrows, Hudson River, Somewhere off Bay Ridge

As the dawn begins to infuse the Brooklyn sky with an eerie green light, the _strigoi_ shadowing the slow-moving barge disappear into the darkness.

NYPD Captain Lena Bartoli's crew dock the barge and scramble ashore. They have the pier to themselves, thanks to the vampires. Collins has given his jacket to Bartoli but now he is shivering.

'Go home, people,' says Bartoli, returning Collins' jacket with a nod of thanks. 'Get your families safe out of the city. Get some sleep and report to the Senior Centre two o'clock this afternoon. We'll clear that nest in the daytime. If what Wachowski's wife saw on TV is true, then that should make it a whole lot easier for us.'

'We should go back to the rat catcher's place and see if they can give us any more helpful hints,' suggests O'Keefe.

'Maybe after we've done with the nest?' says Collins, keen to be seen contributing.

Bartoli nods. 'There are two types of cops in the city now, team,' she says. 'There're those with badges and uniforms and patrol cars – highly visible. They keep Manhattan safe and superficially normal for the rich and influential who walk in the sun – the likes of Eldritch Palmer and the Mayor.'

'Chuh!,' mutters Wachowski. 'They f*cked that _right_ up.'

'And then there's us,' she continues, ignoring him. 'The night watch. The Force. We'll work hard to keep ordinary New Yorkers safe - those that can't afford to hide away from the darkness. We can't be the only four cops who want our city back. Contact all your old friends from different precincts, other boroughs. Do some recruiting in your down time. We'll join up with the other night patrols eventually and retake this town.'

Collins is unable to suppress a cheer but turns it into a cough when the others glare at him.

Behind them, a CCTV camera's light is blinking as it captures the captain's stirring speech.

* * *

Fet's place, Red Hook, Brooklyn

Dutch pads down the stairs early in the morning, driven by a grumbling stomach. She is freshly made up but her eyes still bear the signs of her grief.

When she reaches the basement, she finds Neeva, Audrey and Keane already up, dressed and whispering over bowls of cereals scavenged from the Luss stores.

Neeva smiles and asks quietly, 'What would you like to eat? We have Cheerios and Lucky Charms but I can make pancakes if you want.'

Keane pipes up with his mouth full of Cheerios. 'Oh, yes please, Neeva. Can you make us pancakes? Please, please, please, PLEASE!'

Dutch and Neeva smile at his performance. 'I would love some pancakes, actually. I'm starving,' says Dutch to a whispered cheer from the boy.

Still standing, Dutch takes a deep breath and says, 'I'm Dutch, by the way. Dutch Velders. I'm sorry I didn't welcome you last night. I was…going through something.'

'That's OK, Miss Dutch. Dr Nora explained it,' says Neeva, smiling sadly around the table. 'We have all lost someone to this evil.'

'Yes,' says Dutch. 'Nora told me about your bereavements. I'm sorry for all your losses.'

Dutch paces for a few moments then tells Neeva, 'I think it's wonderful what you've done.'

Neeva looks blank.

'You've lost your daughter,' Dutch says to Neeva. 'And you lost your parents,' she says to the children. 'So you've taken the orphans under your wing – transferred your love over. Instead of letting it all die and shrivel into hate, like I've been doing.'

Dutch paces again. 'You're staying human,' she continues. 'You're defying this any way you can. In your case with love. That's what I should do.' She walks away again, then returns to the foot of the table, jaw set.

'That's what I'm _going_ to do. If I can't love again yet, then I'm going to fight until I can. Welcome to the Resistance, Neeva.' She sits down with the others staring at her. Then she fires up again with a cry.

Dutch has just spotted FinchNews' latest "scoop". Eldritch Palmer, in rude health, is presenting the new mayor to the city.

'Him!' she yells. 'Bloody hell! He did it. Just like he told me. Son of a _bitch_!'

'Miss Dutch, please,' reproves Neeva.

Fortunately the rest of "the Resistance" are already making their way downstairs.

Eph points at the newscast, cursing a blue streak.

Neeva tries to put her hands over Audrey's ears but is fought off.

Dutch continues to scream, 'He's been turned. Palmer's a vampire. Look. LOOK! What did I say?' until Fet comes and calms her, pointing out the rising sun lighting up Palmer.

Setrakian watches until the end of the press conference and then coolly announces, 'It will be the military next.'

* * *

London, England June 1509  
The Abbott's house, Westminster Abbey

Lady Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond and Derby, mother of the late King Henry VII and grandmother of the newly married and newly crowned King Henry VIII lies on her deathbed. She is surrounded by weeping ladies-in-waiting, all of whom are kneeling in an attitude of prayer.

Professor John Fisher, the Bishop of Rochester, Vice-chancellor of Cambridge University stands by her bedside. There is a human skull on the pot cupboard and Fisher is murmuring in Latin, ' _…_ Who are born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. And the word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, the glory as it were of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.'

' _Deo grátias,_ Thanks be to God,' croaks Margaret.

The bishop then takes one of Margaret's hands in his, kneels and presses it against his forehead, apparently overcome with grief.

'Do not weep for me, John,' says Lady Margaret, with an effort. 'Nor any of you here. I shall soon be with my Lord and Saviour in Paradise, free from the torment of this earthen vessel.'

As if on cue, she is seized by severe spasms in her hands, cramping the fingers into twisted claws and making her cry out, 'Oh blessed Jesu, help me. Oh blessed Mother, succour me.'

The attendants echo her in sympathy and burst out in fresh tears and wailing.

The agonies subside with much ardent prayer and supplication and after a period of rest and some mopping of her brow, Lady Margaret is able to speak again, more clearly now.

'John, I fear for the king's future,' she says.

'But King Henry is much admired and full of promise, my Lady,' says the Bishop soothingly.

'Young Henry is much indulged and full of lust, John,' she counters. 'He is too inclined to pursue pleasure for pleasure's sake - as most boys his age are. I have a premonition of great evil to befall those closest to him.'

'Not Queen Katherine!' Fisher protests.

'Her first of all, my old friend. Even you will not escape, though it pains me to speak it.'

'Her Grace is the desire of his heart and the choice of his father,' says Fisher.

'Katherine is a devout girl,' Lady Margaret muses. 'Lovely in form and feature – I would wish that she could influence poor Henry but the portents are not in her favour.'

'Hush, my Lady,' cajoles the bishop. 'This begins to sound like superstition.'

Margaret is silent for a moment then she says, 'Have you found anyone capable of deciphering those tablets?'

'No, my Lady,' says John, pleased at the change of subject. 'We have scoured Christendom for someone learned enough but have yet to find him.'

'Then cast your net beyond Christendom, my dear friend,' advises the dying woman.

'My lady?' says Fisher, puzzled and uneasy.

'A Jew will do it. A Jew will save us - as He did at Calvary.'

Fisher is relieved to be on a firmer theological footing. 'Amen to that, my child,' he says to the woman twenty-eight years his senior. 'Go now, in peace, to your eternal rest,' he finishes as Margaret collapses and breathes no more.

Bishop Fisher and the attendant ladies burst out into fresh and noisy lamentation.


	4. Chapter 4

The Strain: Another Season  
Episode 4

 **Author's note: It's OK, I've calmed down a bit from the manic ranting of last time.**

 **Well, so much for pushing the pace on…Sorry about that. Stuff happens sometimes and life gets in the way – you know how it is.**

 **There's one more thing I have to say before I go any further. I read something the other day that referred to "Gulf War vets" and it struck me that a couple of chapters ago I wrote something like "as a vet I've seen some grim stuff". I'm really really sorry if you assumed I was a military veteran. I'm mortified to think I may have unwittingly misled you. "Vet" in my case is short for veterinary surgeon or veterinarian. I am not shot at on a daily basis and I've never had to watch any of my friends be blown to bits. Again, so sorry for any offence caused to real veterans and their loved ones.**

Gets Rough  
Chapter Four

West Berlin 1989  
Dr Kaplan's office

Setrakian and Corey are poring over some old files of Dr Kaplan's while Sandra is leaning back, absorbed in the Sardu Diaries.

'Who's this "Magdalena" character?,' she asks.

'Magdalena Lasek,' says Setrakian. 'A village girl that Jusef was fond of but felt he shouldn't court because of his disability.'

'A Count would be a good catch for a peasant's daughter, surely,' says Sandra. 'No matter what his health.'

'Read on, Miss Edwards,' encourages the Professor. 'It seems she thought as you do.'

'And he seems so kind and good and generous,' she says. 'Did he really become that evil monster?'

'Indeed he did,' says Setrakian.

'I can't imagine how vile the two Nazis must have become then,' she says offhandedly. 'Since they started off bad.'

A shadow seems to pass over Setrakian's face briefly.

'In Sardu's case, the monster possessed his body and poor Jusef lost all that was uniquely him,' he says sadly. 'In Eichhorst's and Dreverhaven's cases the malignancy merely augmented what was already there.'

He turns back to Corey and the files and Sandra returns to the diary as if to a really good novel.

She devours the next few pages while Corey tries to identify some members of the SS who might still be alive.

'He only wanted to get healthy,' Sandra blurts after a while. 'So he could be with the woman he loved. This is actually a kind of Gothic romance, if you think about it.'

'Without a happy ending,' says Setrakian while Corey tuts at the Professor's repeated distraction.

'What did happen to Magdalena?' asks Sandra.

'Miss Edwards, I've taught you all I know about _strigoi_ ,' says Setrakian, a touch sternly. 'What do you suppose happened?'

'Well,' begins Sandra. 'A normal _strigoi_ would be driven to return home to its loved ones and turn them. But the Master is different, isn't he?'

'Indeed he is,' says Setrakian. 'But in the early stages of transformation, I believe the host's animal yearning would still be strong enough to prevail. Once the higher intelligence of the Master predominated, he may well have killed her, to avoid an increase in numbers at that stage.'

The two men return to their task and Sandra re-reads some of the diary. She starts to tear up and interrupts again.

'Professor,' she says softly. 'What happened to your wife?'

Setrakian straightens and remains motionless for a silent minute. Then he sighs and forces a smile.

'Mynheer Henke,' he says. 'Would you mind fetching us some coffee and refreshments. The University cafeteria produces some exquisite _Pfannkuchen_.'

Corey recognises the hint and, giving both of them a hard stare, leaves the room.

He heads down the corridor grumbling in Dutch about all those years of training just to be allowed to fetch doughnuts.

'Silver, sunlight, Masters, Ancients, _strigoi_ , vampires with python tongues crapping while they drink,' he mutters. 'Old wives' tales and ghost stories.'

He continues his sulky trudge down the hall and out of the building into the gathering twilight of West Berlin. He joins a stream of suits striding homewards and carries on moaning.

'Bloodworms and turning loved ones,' he scoffs. 'I didn't sign up for this waste of time. All I want to do is track down Thomas Eichhorst and drag him in front of an Israeli court. Don't know how she can be so bewitched by the old man as to believe any of it.'

When he eventually gets the griping out of his system, he realises how far off course he's come. He looks around, locates a late-opening kiosk and queues up. One of the grey-haired suits follows him and is nearly knocked over as the preoccupied Corey whirls around, drinks and buns in hand and sprints off back to campus. It was, of course, Eichhorst, his attention attracted by the mention of his name. He follows Corey with his eyes and smiles that horrible smile.

* * *

Queens' College, Cambridge, England January 1543

In a night time corridor, two boys in their mid teens are whispering, daring each other to enter the library.

One plucks up his courage, oils the latch and slinks into a perfectly normal, if very dark, university library. Bookshelves line the walls obscuring even the moonlight for the quivering boy. A lectern with a chain dangling from it appears out of the blackness, making him jump. There's another. And another. One even has an old manuscript still chained to it. He stops and tries to read it, reverentially picking it up and moving it towards a window. It is beautifully illuminated in gorgeous colours and gold leaf but the boy ignores these and delicately turns the pages to the text itself. He sighs, disappointed that he can't translate the Arabic script and replaces the volume on its pedestal.

He creeps onwards to a door at the other end and carefully opens it.

'Oi, you!' says a man's rough voice from beyond the door, making the boy leap backwards. 'What d'you think you're doing?'

'I…I want to see the President's tablets,' quavers the boy, moving cautiously through the portal.

Two men are guarding another door that is bound in a shiny metal. They are armed with short swords of the same shiny metal and crossbows, the bolts of which are also distinctly glinty.

The second man laughs nastily and raises his bow.

The first says, 'What's yer name, maggot?'

'Dee, sir,' says the boy. 'John Dee. I'm up at St John's, sir, but I heard about President Fisher's tablets and I had to see them.'

'And you thought sneaking about at dead of night was the best way to do that?' sneers the first guard.

The boy hangs his head. 'No sir, but I when I asked President May, he threw me out and had me flogged.'

'Reckon we should do the same,' says Bad Cop, kicking the boy in the rump.

'Touch my weapon,' nods Good Cop, proffering his silver blade. Bad Cop sniggers.

Dee looks at him and hesitates but touches the silver with the tip of his finger.

Good Cop grunts approvingly and tells his partner, 'Cover him.' He unlocks the door and leads Dee through into a room with expensively large windows on three walls and the roof. There is a locked silver box in the centre, on a silver platform. It is surrounded by mirrors, arranged in such a way that, during the day, it would be impossible to approach it without being caught in sunlight.

'Sorry, squirt,' says Good Cop. 'That's as close as I can let you get. Come back in a few years when you're a Fellow…with an order from the King.'

Dee is looking at the silver box with the longing of first love. He swallows and nods and, without looking at either guard or making another sound, he leaves.

'You're as soft as shit, you are,' snorts his colleague. 'Should of let me perforate him a little. There's no other fun in the graveyard shift.'

* * *

Atrium, Sotheby's Auction House, Manhattan Present Day

Dutch's new-found zeal for an anti-vamp resistance has led to her replacing Nora on this morning's mission to view the _Occido Lumen._

Setrakian, Fet and Dutch pass through the uber-security and approach the reception desk. Fet and Dutch follow him in formation, just behind on either side. All three are smartly dressed.

'Good morning,' says Setrakian, attempting an ingratiating smile. 'I am here to view the article catalogued as "The _Occido Lumen_ ".

The receptionist flashes an on-off smile and passes him a multi-page document.

'If you could just fill out these few details…' she says.

Setrakian reads the form. 'What's this?' he says. 'Name and address of broker, bank account numbers, guarantors? I need to see the object before I can determine whether it is worth purchasing.'

'I'm sorry, sir,' says the receptionist, looking anything but. 'Only _bona fide_ bidders who've paid a deposit of $1million can view the items for sale.'

'How can I be certain that it is what you say it is?' he protests. 'Can I at least see a photograph of the contents; some written provenance - a documentation of authenticity even?'

'I'm very sorry, sir,' says the receptionist again, shaking her head.

'Right,' says Fet, taking out his City exterminator badge and leaning in. 'I need to talk to the building supervisor. The person in charge of the prop…' He's interrupted by Dutch leaping on him, yelling, 'THE _HELL_ YOU DO! Gimme that.' She tries to get the badge off him. 'Not after Stoneheart. I can't believe you'd try and pull that trick again, you idiot! Gimme. That.'

Setrakian pretends not to notice at first and tries to prevent the receptionist from retrieving the forms. There's a bit of polite tug of war between them as, behind him, the struggle rages.

Fet is amused because, although Dutch is tall and strong, he still looms.

'The old man says he needs a look,' he grins. 'Unless you've got a million bucks stashed in your bra, this is the only way.' He's holding the badge up high and she's trying to climb him via a desk.

'There'll be another way,' she grunts. 'There's got to be.'

A swarm of armed security rush them both and tackle them to the ground.

Setrakian and the receptionist watch bemused, then realisation dawns on Setrakian's face and he makes a bolt for the self-closing door into the forbidden interior of Sotheby's. He is intercepted by the surprisingly nimble receptionist. 'Nice try, sir,' she says. 'But we've seen this kind of performance before.'

A relatively gentle guard escorts him outside but warns, 'Show up again and there will be arrests.'

The others are chucked out less ceremoniously and resume a shouting and finger-punching match.

'Now look what you done,' accuses Fet.

'This time we're all alive,' she retorts.

'We were all alive LAST time, you stupid…'

'Cos we were _lucky_.'

'How're we gonna get a look at this book now? Huh?'

'Maybe you can wave your badge around and ask to inspect a bank vault for 'roaches?'

Setrakian parts them with his cane. 'Vasiliy, Dutch. Please!' he says. 'You're drawing a crowd…' He raises his eyebrows in a significant look.

They calm down and grumble their way back to the van.

Once inside, Fet says, 'What now?'

'I cannot see a legitimate way to obtain this book,' sighs Setrakian. 'And we _must_. There is no other option. The fate of humanity depends upon our being in possession of it and the knowledge within.'

'Well, then,' says Fet matter-of-factly. 'We'll have to use illegal means,'

'I've never done anything as hands-on as a high-security heist,' cautions Dutch.

'We have to find that gang banger from the "Well Dressed Man" tapes, then,' says Fet. 'If he can't do it, I bet he'll know someone who can.'

* * *

 **Author's note: Many many spoilers…Re: 2.02 in particular.**

 **…**

 **…**

 ** _THAT'S_ their Dreverhaven!? I've been bursting to say that all chapter. Even if they hadn't cast someone young and hot or even a native German-speaker, I can't believe they couldn't find an actor with a consistent accent – _viz._ 'I need  zer money to get out of Europe. The Mossad are here.'**

 **I also hated the gratuitous flickering lights in the pool changing rooms. You see it so often on TV and I thought the Strain was better than that.**

 **However… I absolutely loved the 1965 flashbacks with the hotel chase scene, the lovely old cars, Reggie's dad and, of course, especially the return of Jim Watson somewhere underneath all that make-up. I actually squealed when I saw his name in the opening credits.**

 **Very pleased to see the three superb older actors had more to get their teeth into. I was a bit concerned after episode 1 that David Bradley and Richard Sammel (Setrakian and Eichhorst) would be stuck doing "grumpy old git" and "creepy iceman" respectively - roles they could play even if they were anaesthetised. Liked the lechy Eldritch (that's gonna get icky though, isn't it?) and loved the Jonathan Hyde (Eldritch) vs David Bradley scene. How good are they?**

 **Glad "mean-looking Asian Stoneheart bodyguard" who I've called "Ken" is still there but he might get sacked after letting Setrakian and Fet get within _boom boom_ range…**

 **And _WHY_ didn't I think of splitting Sandra into two characters – the mysterious gift/temptation for Eldritch ( _Another Season_ Episode 1 teaser) and the ballsy blonde defending her island ( _Another Season_ Episode 1 Chapter Three)? She might not have been so hateable then…I got fed up of her this chapter and followed Corey for a bit instead.**

 **Oooh, also sorry I got the book's version of the cane story wrong – it wasn't found in a yard sale or whatever I said – it was an antique dealer so the series was faithful to that, if a little disappointing.**


	5. Chapter 5

The Strain: Another Season  
Episode 4

 **Author's note: Apologies for the particularly shoddy output of last week. It turns out I was hours away from the least pleasant part of a case of Norovirus. I'll go back and fix it when (or if) I ever feel on top of this story.**

 **This is rushed and poorly laid out. (See, I'm so desperate for feedback, I'll flame myself!) Sorry for that. Again, it's something I intend to sort out in the future.**

Gets Rough  
Chapter Five

* * *

West Berlin 1989  
Dr Kaplan's Office

Corey returns from the doughnut run, to find Sandra crying in Setrakian's arms. The old man's face is a mask of grief but his eyes are dry. Sandra disengages and transfers to Corey's embrace. He looks aghast at Setrakian who makes an odd choking noise and leaves.

Corey soothes and caresses Sandra in silence until the racking sobs ease.

'C'mon,' he says gently. 'Lets get you home.'

'I'll tell you sometime,' she whispers wetly in his ear. 'But not just now.'

* * *

Prague 1582  
The castle of Rudolf II, Holy Roman Emperor

A young man in a cellar laboratory is using a crystal ball.

'O, great and powerful angels,' he intones. 'Grant your humblest servant the wisdom of the ancients. Allow me a glimpse into the workings of Creation. Reveal the secret of transforming the base unto the noble - in my own self as well as in my metallurgical research.'

He stares into the depths of the crystal and, after a while, a face appears. It is bald and ashen with a gory hole where the nose should be and a serrated smile.

'Edward James Talbot né Kelley,' it says. 'I am the Master. The angel of eternity and power. There exists in the land of your birth, tablets of silver that will bestow the knowledge you seek. They are in the possession of a man named Dee - a courtier of Elizabeth. I shall guide you to him and to them. He is desperate to contact angels. You shall be his conduit. Bring the tablets and their keeper here. He and all his household will come if one of God's messengers commands it. _Then_ I shall interpret the sacred writings on the tablets for you.'

Kelley (or Talbot) gibbers his assent and gratitude and drops into a dead faint.

* * *

West Berlin 1989

With the sun rising, Sandra and Corey stroll through the autumnal campus towards another Setrakian class. They are discussing their tutor.

'I think he's an extraordinary man,' says Sandra. 'To have suffered so much – lost so much and still keep fighting…'

'You don't think his suffering has made him a little bit…you know...?' says Corey.

'…Stark, staring bonkers?' finishes Sandra.

'Well, I was gonna say "crazy" or "detached from reality", but yeah.'

'He doesn't seem crazy to me,' says Sandra loyally. 'Driven? Definitely. Obsessed? Maybe. But you can understand that. You don't have to believe the vampire stuff to feel that his passion is infectious.'

'He _is_ very charismatic,' Corey concedes. 'That man could lead armies.'

'I've only known him a few days,' says Sandra, her eyes shining. 'But already I think…y'know…if I had to…yes, I think I'd die for him.'

They arrive in their "classroom" and Corey approaches Setrakian and shakes his hand.

'I'm sorry, sir,' he says. 'Sandra told me about your late wife. I'm very sorry to have been disrespectful before. Whatever else I believe, I know you suffered greatly at the hands of these monsters and I will do all in my power to bring Eichhorst to justice.'

'Please, Mynheer Henke,' says Setrakian. 'Don't attempt anything so stupid without extensive support. Or with Miss Edwards in tow.'

Sandra smiles adoringly at the old man and picks up _The Dreverhaven Notes_ , asking, 'Was the doctor really worse than the commandant?'

Another of those mysterious shadows crosses Setrakian's face and he nods. 'If it were possible, yes he was.'

The _Notes_ are split in two with an elastic band tightly around the first and greater part, preventing Sandra examining that portion. She opens the second section before sighing, 'What an idiot! Of course, it's still in German.'

'But you speak it,' says Corey.

'It's worse than my Dutch,' she smiles ruefully. 'And my Dutch is lousy.'

Setrakian finds an English-German dictionary for her and comments, 'It's mostly diagrams of _strigoi_ dissections. But it contains some useful information.' Then he turns back to Corey and the Nazis.

The day wears on and, after persistently wading her way through the permitted section of the _Notes_ , Sandra is predictably finding the forbidden first part irresistible. Checking that the men have their backs to her, she peeks into the pages but finds nothing identifiable. She carefully removes the band and flicks through the pages of dry data, to drawings of the surgical techniques themselves. Where the _strigoi_ experiments had her wrinkling her nose, the human tests have her throwing the book down in revulsion, making the men turn around to her.

Setrakian retrieves the book and says gently, 'That was meant for Mynheer Henke and Mossad.'

'He did that to _people_?' she whispers incredulously.

'He wasn't the only one,' says Corey and he takes the _Notes_ from the Professor. Corey glances through the book and even he turns pale. Sandra foolishly peers over Corey's shoulder and runs from the room with her hand over her mouth.

Corey follows Sandra to comfort her. He finds her coming out of the Ladies, still slightly green. She smiles weakly.

'I don't know how much more of these atrocities I can bear to hear about,' she says. 'I can't imagine how the Professor is still human inside.'

Corey takes her in his arms and kisses the top of her head. 'That's enough for today,' he says. 'Let's go clubbing, that'll cheer you up. Berlin absolutely rocks.'

* * *

Prague April 1587

Edward Kelley-Talbot is sleeping at his desk when the Master lifts him up by the collar and shakes him awake.

'Where are the tablets?' it asks menacingly.

'Whhggh?' says the dopey alchemist.

'I have been patient until now,' says the Master. 'You have had many years to find Dee's tablets.'

'You're corporeal,' says Talbot. 'That's never happened before.'

He gets another shake for this observation.

'I've searched all his rooms and those of his family,' wheedles Talbot. 'And he hardly gives me time to scratch, let alone go exploring, what with the constant "What do they say now, Edward?" and "Do they have new revelations?" I'm at the shew-stone from dawn to dusk. I've run out of Enochian names to make up.'

'Here is a new name,' says the Master. 'The angel Uzriel directs you to share all your possessions.'

Talbot's eyes light up and the Master interprets correctly. 'Yes, even your wives. You've noticed the nubile Mrs Dee, haven't you,' he chuckles nastily. 'Mortals appetites are so predictable, your wills so malleable. It is an undying pleasure to contend with you.'

These are odd words for an angel of God but Talbot's mind is on other things.

* * *

West Berlin 1989  
Nightclub

Sandra and Corey dance the night away to such classics as Black Box's _Ride on Time,_ Tina Turner's _The Best_ and Martika's _Toy Soldiers_. And it does cheer Sandra up, the couple as demonstratively affectionate as any on that floor.

 _Later that night..._

Eichhorst in a late eighties 'sack suit' prowls the streets in the early hours. He watches a trio of suited drunken Irishmen fall giggling out of a strip club and split up. He follows one down the street with single-minded intent, _Invisible Man_ by Queen just about audible drifting from another club. However, as he passes a couple (it's Corey and Sandra) enthusiastically making out in a doorway, he stops dead - eyes wide open in delighted disbelief. He swivels slowly and makes a couple more passes – not looking at them but with his mouth very slightly open, almost as if tasting the air. Then, without the youngsters paying him the slightest heed, he walks thoughtfully away – all interest in the yummy Irishman lost.

* * *

Prague February 1588  
Baby Theodore Dee's first birthday

The room is cramped and shabby where Edward Kelley Talbot is dandling the birthday boy on his knee. John Dee, an elderly white-bearded man, is watching them closely and doing some unrewarding mathematics in his head. Presumably the figure "nine months" features strongly in his calculations.

He looks at his friend, his wife and the baby - and comes to a decision.

'This Hermetic magick has brought me nothing but pain and penury,' he announces, rising from his chair. 'Talbot, I no longer require your services. Jane, my dear, we leave for England within the month.'

Talbot returns the baby to his mother and runs back to his castle laboratory, rummaging beneath a heap of lead strips for his crystal ball.

'Master,' he cries. 'He's returning home. We've shared everything. He withheld nothing and no one from me and still there was no sign of anything like you describe. The tablets must be there still – in England. I've heard he has an impressive library. He loves books more than his wife and he was sorry enough to part with her.'

The Master's face appears and orders coldly, 'Get there before him.'

* * *

Mortlake, Surrey, England 1588

The Dee family return home to find the house has been burgled and vandalised.

John rushes straight to the library to find it ransacked, his books and instruments stolen and the bookshelves crow-barred away from the wall as if someone has been searching for hidden rooms.

Ignoring his wailing womenfolk, he rushes outside to the midden and jumps in up to his chest. He feels along the wall and fiddles about a bit before pulling out the silver box from Queens' college. He cradles it lovingly in his arms and weeps for joy.

* * *

West Berlin 1989  
The night after the club

Corey and Sandra are walking back from the University, hand in hand and deep in conversation. Under a winter coat, she is wearing a woollen mini dress, thick tights and high-heeled knee boots, all presumably acquired here as the weather turned colder. They turn into a side street for a shortcut through the park and, at the end of it, leaning with teenage insouciance against a lamppost, there is Eichhorst, hands in pockets and smirking.

Sandra notices first and points. 'Oh my God! It's true,' she cries. 'Corey - that's him!'

Corey instinctively takes off after him, scaling the high iron fence after him into the park behind.

Sandra can't follow because of the outfit and she listens to the sounds of pursuit fading with growing unease. After a while, she turns back to head towards the main street and the protection of a crowd.

Suddenly, there's someone behind her, one hand over her mouth, the other pins both her hands behind her. She is scared and her eyes are wide but she's not as pants-wettingly terrified as she ought to be and she also seems too curious to struggle much. Her assailant doesn't notice though and, smiling triumphantly, he pushes her towards a darkened window and uses it as a mirror to address her.

'I understand you and your young man have expressed a desire to meet with me,' says Eichhorst.

She manages to extricate her left hand somehow and it moves to try and free her mouth. He spots the ring and almost gurgles with delight. 'Oh, your fiancé,' he says. 'Even better.'

He enfolds her ring finger with the hand blocking her mouth and, with the other, forces her right arm up in a lock.

'I ought to wish you joy but I think that is highly unlikely in the circumstances,' he says. 'I know you've been seeing the Jew. He must have told you all about me.'

He waits for a slight nod of confirmation from her. 'I wonder though,' he continues. 'Did you really believe any of it?' A slow Jurassic smile. 'Let me alleviate the misery of your doubt.'

Keeping eye contact via the window reflection, he bends his head and opens his jaw wide to extend his stinger.

* * *

 **Author's note: Spoilers all over**

 **…**

 **…**

 **I should have had faith, shouldn't I? A fortnight after my comments about the ageing Setrakian they sort it all out. Also…if Setrakian is now 94. Then 'now ' is 2018. What a brilliant idea! The story happens in the near future. GENIUS! For me, that makes it even more eerie and scary.**

 **Not buying the worms in the eye though (won't go into it).**

 **Did love the CPR scene but it was a bit more action than I was expecting AS to have this early on! DB was fantastic throughout - as always. When he winked at Dutch I actually blurted at the screen 'I love him!' Got a weird look from Freddie but honestly, how can you not adore that character?**

 **V.v pleased Reggie Fitz is back.**

 **I reckon they're gonna have a new Quinlan – younger and hotter I bet and I can see why. When I read book 3 the Quinlan seemed much cooler and more half breed-y. Still don't know what to do about my Q cos I think Steve McHattie had been doing a fine job and I'm loathe to replace him for a newer prettier model.**

 **Can't wait til Eichhorst sees the security footage of that attack and the UV defence system (almost beginning to enjoy the Eichhorst/Palmer sparring as much as Eichhorst/Setrakian) – and I loved that UV pit trap under the star symbol.**

 **Did Eph dump a sharp in a binbag? Bad Ephraim. Naughty Ephraim. Still, it _is_ a vampire apocalypse, corners get cut...**


End file.
